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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24490273">Leaves of Three</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibertinePast/pseuds/LibertinePast'>LibertinePast</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Backyard [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bathing/Washing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:34:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,537</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24490273</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibertinePast/pseuds/LibertinePast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny prunes, Daniel soothes, and things get heavy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Backyard [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756549</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Leaves of Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There's been so much amazing LawRusso stuff on Tumblr lately, which is to blame for this. (The gif of those two jerks on the Galaxy Con stream is going to fuel a LOT of writing.) Keep blogging and re-blogging! I'm loving every minute of this renaissance, so...the Backyard Series continues!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p>The next level of the relationship is Johnny tending to the yard, and Daniel allowing it.  It’s a satisfying thing—Miyagi’s sharp-ass clippers, the sweetest damn blueberries in California, and plenty of opportunities to crack jokes about “your bush.” </p><p>Johnny never has a shirt on lately, either.</p><p>It’s downright peachy until Johnny is back there alone one day, and ends up unknowingly wading in poison oak and spreading the oil all over himself.  He will never, ever admit that this happened because he was playing air guitar to music while he was working.  Full on air shredding--behind his head, everywhere.</p><p>Daniel feels terrible that he didn’t even notice the poison oak creeping up under the fence.  Obviously, he’s always a little distracted these days.  Prom night was just last week, after all, and flashbacks of the after party still turn his hairy arms to gooseflesh. The back of the pickup was no hotel, but covered with blankets and pillows, and strung with tangled lights that had migrated from the fence...it was a home.</p><p>Daniel rode him for the first time, overcome by Johnny’s expression as he looked up at him.  It was achingly familiar….and this time, he wasn’t drifting away from Johnny as he was held aloft.</p><p>Daydreaming of all this makes you a failure at counting every leaf on a new growth or two.</p><p>All the dojo has is a shower stall, so Daniel sets up a big galvanized tub next to the deck. Mr. Miyagi had intended to use it as a huge planter someday, but he’d be pleased with it being used for healing.  Daniel fills it with warm water, colloidal oatmeal and tea tree oil.</p><p>Johnny is in a black robe, looking positively miserable. “No offense, but that thing looks like a damn horse trough.”</p><p>“Only the best for the stallion,” Daniel offers with grand eyebrows and a wink.</p><p>Johnny groans, crosses his arms and scratches both sides. The water looks like the apartment fountain, but he would do anything to stop this itch. He’d chew glass. “Yeah, yeah, let’s just do this.”</p><p>He lets the robe fall to the deck and there’s not even a hint of a tease, a smirking lip-bite, or a twirl of the robe ties, so Daniel <em> knows </em>he’s not feeling like himself.</p><p>Daniel will never really get over the moment when all of Johnny comes into view. Even covered in red welts and splotches, it’s Michaelangelo stuff.  Granted, he’s a little more like the statue of Bacchus—a soft belly and kinda drunk--but still...a work of art.  </p><p>Johnny settles into the metal tub.  “Ohhhuhgghh…..” he breathes out, elbows resting on the sides.</p><p>“Better?”</p><p> “Fuck yeah...” He notices Daniel’s big goat eyes fixed on the water. “Aw, what’s the matter, can’t see the goods through the Aveeno?”</p><p>“It’s clearer from where I’m standing, actually,” Daniel grins.</p><p>“So...aren’t you gonna wash me?” </p><p>Under different circumstances, Daniel would be lathering him up and humming <em>Da-da-deee-da-dahh, </em>but this is a delicate situation. “Oh, yeah, I’ll just take a, a loofah to your fuckin’ blisters. Wouldn’t that hurt? I’d rather just...watch you relax. You never stay still for very long, y’know. I’m feelin’ this.”</p><p>“... you could just...get in.”</p><p>“Believe me, John...what I’ll end up doing is not gonna help that rash.”</p><p>“There’s no rash on my wang.”</p><p>“No. N-O. Like the great humanitarian Farrah Fontaine, I will not take advantage of someone in a fragile state,” he teases. </p><p>“Right. One kiss and you won’t be able to keep your hand above water.”</p><p>“Just relax.” Daniel kneels down and rests his chin on Johnny’s ledge-resting elbow, one of the only places without angry redness.  “You know what you always say about leavin’ well enough alone.”</p><p>“One kiss and you’ll be in here bobbing for bananas.”</p><p>Daniel rolls his eyes, but then they hone in on Johnny’s lips. They look a little swollen.</p><p>“I know you…” Johnny says quietly, and those words do the trick.</p><p>Daniel pulls his face to his, his thumbs pressing hard in his cheeks.  Johnny only gives him small, gentle flicks that get Daniel countering with louder whimpers of desperation. </p><p>Daniel hears a weird sound, opens one eye and realizes it’s Johnny raking his nails across his own shoulder.</p><p>“Oh, that’s real attractive. Kissin’ me while you scratch yourself? Lemme get some more oils for this little concoction...”</p><p>“Fiiine,” Johnny groans, knowing he has a point.</p><p>"An’ I’ll grab my laptop and put on one of your favorite comfort flicks. <em> No Retreat, No Surrender </em> or somethin.’”</p><p>“Oh-ho, forget messing around then, that sounds even better,” Johnny calls after him.</p><p>He’s not even kidding. When Daniel comes back, still chuckling to himself about that, there’s something a little...off about Johnny’s face. His eyelid looks swollen now, and he’s clearing his throat like Uncle Louie.</p><p>“Johnny?...Did you do anything <em> else </em> today I should know about?”</p><p>“I didn’t piss anywhere in the yard, I swear....ok, I burned some of the stuff I pruned, I know you’re not supposed to do that.” *<em> Ahem! Hocck!* </em> punctuates the sentence, with a few watery blinks. <em> “ </em>But the town takes forever to get the yard waste bin. It just sits there for weeks ruining the aesthetic around here, man.”</p><p>“Did the <em> poison oak </em> happen to be in the stuff you burned??”</p><p>“...is that bad?”</p><p>“UH?? Breathing the smoke of the stuff you’re highly allergic to is <em> very </em> bad! C’maan, get out of there, we gotta get you to the ER before your damn throat closes up!” </p><p>Of course there’s “no time” to find Johnny’s clothes, so he ends up stuck in Daniel’s pocketed T-shirt and dad shorts.</p><p>
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</p><p>Daniel hauls ass to the ER in the Q5, his hand on Johnny’s leg like he’s a woman in labor.  Even more similar to that, Daniel keeps telling him to breathe, and Johnny reassures him that it’s okay--it’s getting a little harder, but he can take it.</p><p>Daniel can hardly grip the wheel in his sweaty hands. “Tell me your level of distress on a scale of Dutch’s farts to Kreese’s headlock.”</p><p>“So...between, what—like four and ten?”</p><p>“You think the farts were just a <em> four </em> ? Oh, that’s right, you probably never took one directly in your <em>face.</em> Ohgod, I-I dunno why I’m talkin’ about this—“</p><p>“Red light, LaRusso,” Johnny puffs. Literally approaching one, but he also wishes he could stop that wheel in Daniel’s mind that goes from one trauma to another, to another. Sometimes he’s both a part of the spiral, and the only thing that can stop it. “C’mon. It’s gonna be okay.” </p><p>“...I’m sorry,” he offers in a little shaky voice. “I just keep hearin’ that trophy crack and you not bein’ able to—“</p><p>“<em> Daniel </em> .” The first name is still a rarity. He pins down Daniel’s hand with his. “Even if it starts to feel like the parking lot, that’s okay, ‘cause just like then, I’ve got <em> you </em> in my sight. That’s how I know it’s gonna be fine.”</p><p>No one had ever run to him so fast, especially while limping the whole way.</p><p>“...okay,” Daniel says delicately, finally calming down. “Okay hon,” says, squeezing Johnny’s leg.<br/><br/><br/><br/></p><p>Johnny--in a pale blue johnny--ends up doing just fine, on steroids and creams and sitting up on the ER gurney, drinking a Capri Sun. Getting chatty from the ‘roids. “I always used to get these things leaking by accident. My 2nd grade teacher made me drink them over the wastebasket. Oh look, they’ve got clear bottoms now, so you can check if they’re moldy. That’s why kids have no immunity these days, they don’t get penicillin from Capri Sun anymore...”</p><p>Daniel just listens and listens, with lax eyelids and a worshipping smirk, taking in the oatmeal scent Johnny’s still carrying.</p><p>“So...did the nurses ask if you were my 'special friend?'*” Johnny sighs.</p><p>“Nah, they didn’t bring it up.”</p><p>“I guess it’s kinda obvious.”</p><p>“What, with all my fretting and mother-henning and your boxers draped over my arm like a waiter?”</p><p>“No...I meant me. Just...letting you.”</p><p> </p><p>Daniel squeezes his hand. There are bright scars on his knuckles that Johnny hasn't asked about, but running his thumb over them tells him everything.</p><p> </p><p>“...look, I’m sorry about the boneheaded slash and burn tactics,” Johnny sighs.</p><p>“Nyeah...I might have to revoke your yard care license.”</p><p>Johnny isn’t amused. “I’d buy that if I didn’t know how much my landscaping turns you on.”</p><p>God, he’s right. Just the way he puts the right amount of peat moss on the bonsais can make Daniel’s eyes roll back. “A’right, a’right. Let’s just agree to work on the yard together.”</p><p>“I like to surprise you, though,” he mumbles.</p><p>“You’ll find <em> many </em> other ways to surprise me, John. Believe me. I know you.”</p><p>
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</p><p>A few days later, the karate students don’t ask about the empty basin next to the deck. They shudder to think of what kind of chore or endurance-building ice bath awaits them. They definitely don’t imagine the Senseis in there, fingers laced, legs entangled. It hasn’t happened yet, but the looks they exchange in class all day construct the story frame by frame, leaf by leaf.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>***”special friend” is borrowed from Rosa in storyshark2005's Book of Job. Because this is what all older ladies would call them, in any language. ❤❤</p></blockquote></div></div>
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